Paul Hindemith (1895-1963)
Mörder, Hoffnung
der Frauen, Op. 12 (1919), Text by
Oskar Kokoschka
Cast (in order of appearance):
Die Frau: Marjorie Elinor Dix, Soprano
Erstes Mädchen: Tamara Mesic, Soprano
Erster Krieger: Vale Rideout, Tenor
Zweites Mädchen: Jessie Hinkle, Mezzo-soprano
Der Mann: Mel Ulrich, Baritone
Drittes Mädchen: Amanda Pabyan, Soprano
Zweiter Krieger: Jonathan Hays, Bass-Baritone
Concert Chorale of New York; James Bagwell,
Director
Sancta Susanna, Op. 21 (1921), Text
by August Stramm
Cast (in order of appearance):
Klementia: Jennifer Roderer, Mezzo-soprano
Susanna: Paula Delligatti, Soprano
Eine Magd: Teresa Buchholz, Mezzo-soprano
Ein Knecht: Roderick Gomez, Baritone
Alte Nonne: Ory Brown, Mezzo-soprano
Concert Chorale of New York; James Bagwell,
Director
Das Nusch-Nuschi, Op. 20 (1920),
Text by Franz Blei (U.S.
Premiere)
Cast (in order of appearance):
Tum-Tum: Eric Shaw, Tenor
Erste Bajadere: Marjorie Elinor Dix, Soprano
Zweite Bajadere: Teresa Buchholz, Mezzo-soprano
Ein Bettler/Erster Herold/Zweiter Dichter: Jonathan
Hays, Baritone
Bangsa/Erstes Mädchen: Malinda Haslett,
Soprano
Osasa: Amanda Pabyan, Soprano
Twaise/Zweites Mädchen: Jessie Hinkle,
Mezzo-Soprano
Ratasata/Drittes Mädchen: Tamara Mesic,
Soprano
Feldgeneral Kyce Wiang: Marc Embree, Bass
Kamadewa/Erster Dichter/Ragweng, der Kronprinz:
Trey Cassels, Tenor
Der Zeremonienmeister: Matthew Burns, Bass
Susulü, der Eunuch des Kaisers: Drew Minter,
Counter-tenor
Mung Tha Bÿa, Kaiser von Burma: Mel Ulrich,
Baritone
Der Henker: Roderick Gomez, Baritone
Visual Design and Direction: Anne Patterson
Who would have thought
that a large spider, depicted by the clarinet
– here the ASO’s excellent Laura Flax – would
have a critical part in Sancta Susanna,
the second of three operas in an exhilaratingly
strange evening of obscure Hindemith titled
Opera Scandal 1920s, dreamed up by
the tireless Leon Botstein. The plot involves
two nuns skulking around a church, when that
spider "as large as a fist, crawls out
of the darkness behind the altar" and
startles them. If this isn’t opera destined
for cinematic treatment, I don’t know what
is.
As Susanna, Paula Delligatti
did a beautiful job with a character defined
by rising intensity, her anxiety mirrored
by Hindemith’s use of a sputtering flute figure
to represent the night wind. In one of the
work’s shocking moments, as she rips the loincloth
from the large Crucifix, the words Then
let my savior help me against yours! are
given a huge burst in the orchestra. Then
quieting things down somewhat, the chorus
of nuns appears, and here entered from the
back of the hall, walking slowly, single-file
toward the stage. As Susanna is pressed to
confess, she continues to refuse as the crowd
cries Satan! and the orchestra finishes
in a brass-fueled blaze.
The first work uses
a libretto by the artist Oskar Kokoschka,
and at the risk of being lengthy, I offer
the following synopsis verbatim from the program:
The warriors and their leader, the Man,
besiege the tower of the Woman and her maids.
In a highly symbolic exchange, the Man and
Woman express their instincts of fear and
attraction. The Man brands the woman with
his mark; she retaliates by stabbing him.
She allows him into the tower, where he revives
and kills everyone.
The piece opens with
a striking, dissonant brass chord, continues
with typical Hindemith heft and color, and
ends with three rooster crows before The Man
approaches the maidens and warriors and "kills
them like flies." As The Man, Mel Ulrich
lent a scary, deep gravity to a part that
is almost too odd to believe. Marjorie Elinor
Dix, ably rising above the raging orchestra,
gave serious vocal prowess to The Woman.
In the third opera,
Das Nusch-Nuschi, the title character
is a sort of humorously fearsome monster that
is quickly subjected to the indignity of being
squashed when one of the characters, the drunken
field general Kyce Waing, accidentally sits
on it. The story, "for Burmese Marionettes
in one act," has something to do with
one Lord Zatwai, apparently sexually insatiable,
whose exploits eventually result in the departure
of his servant, Tum-Tum, who then becomes
servant to Waing, but the new master’s luck
runs out and he is ordered to be castrated.
(Please don’t ask me to describe the story
again.) Amusingly semi-staged by Anne Patterson,
the cast wore basic black with colorful headdresses
that helped to identify the huge roster of
characters trooping back and forth from backstage,
where presumably all sorts of sexual shenanigans
were occurring. The nusch-nuschi – okay, I
just love writing that word – was here depicted
with what appeared to be a green inflatable
pool toy with an animal head.
Standouts in the enormous
cast included counter-tenor Drew Minter as
Susulü, the Emperor’s eunuch, Eric Shaw
as Tum-Tum, and Ms. Dix and Teresa Buchholz
as the First and Second Dancers, respectively.
Also excellent were two (unidentified) gentlemen
as Trained Monkeys, each wearing a curled
brown "tail" headpiece, who did
a nice job with a part that only asks them
to periodically call out, "Rai! Rai!"
Leon Botstein’s continuing
dedication to presenting little-known repertoire
– and doing it right – is just short
of amazing. After leaving this performance,
I thought, I may never hear – much less
see a performance of – any of these works
again, and there is plenty of music in
all three that can be savored more often than
"never." If Botstein’s interpretations
of these works weren’t the most bitingly dramatic,
it hardly matters when encountering rarities
like these. Hindemith’s language is overwhelmingly
imaginative, with much of the rhythmic bite
and glittering detail that would surface later
in Mathis der Maler (1930), Symphony
in E Flat (1940) and Symphonic Metamorphosis
(1943). The middle of Das Nusch Nuschi
contains an orchestral interlude of Three
Dances that would be perfectly plausible
excerpted on its own, and the score is filled
with the composer’s typical forceful and piquant
brass, with some fun work for solo bassoon,
violin, celesta and others. If Botstein’s
enthusiasm translated into an aural river
that occasionally overflowed its banks, drowning
out the singers, in all fairness some of the
blame could probably be directed at Hindemith’s
dense orchestration.
A murderous rampage
worthy of Steven Seagal, a giant arachnid
running amok among some nuns, and a crowd
of people and animals celebrating an unfortunate
castration – you could have duller evenings
in the concert hall.
Bruce
Hodges
Here is a link to the notes
on the evening prepared by Leon Botstein:
http://www.americansymphony.org/dialogues_extensions/2003_04season/2004_3_5/botstein.cfm